


Strings

by EvenJestersCry



Category: Dissidia Duodecim: Final Fantasy, Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Confusion, Consensual, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dominant Terra, F/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, okay maybe a little plot related to how Dissidia cycles work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 03:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13755555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvenJestersCry/pseuds/EvenJestersCry
Summary: “If you were always this good, I wouldn’t have to keep your strings so tight.”In a thousand lifetimes, a thousand cycles, Terra Branford would always wake up next to him. She imagines feeling the ghosts of a hundred hands on her, all belonging to previous incarnations of themselves. Touching her, teaching her, pleasing her in all manner of ways. She knows that this is where she must be meant to be.(A musing on the relationship between Terra and Kefka in the earlier cycles of Dissidia.)





	Strings

_Sometimes she feels like she’s better suited to be a puppet._

 

Sometimes, it feels almost comforting to place her dominion in someone else’s hands. She is such a dangerous, unpredictable creature. When he places his hands on her shoulders, she feels controlled, like her powers are directed.

 

She is so unsure when she casts a spell by herself. At least, with him guiding her, she feels a sense of purpose, like being an agent of Chaos is what she is meant to be.

 

\---

 

When she comes into consciousness, she knows she has been called again. As an agent of Chaos.

 

She feels fingers tugging at her hair, and she realizes she is sitting at a vanity. Her eyes flicker to her reflection in the vanity’s mirror, and to the man standing behind her. He is gathering her hair in his hands when he notices her staring at him.

 

“Ah! My dear Terra, you are awake~!” He chimes with glee, before wrapping a scarf in her hair to hold it up.

 

This situation feels so familiar. She looks down at her hands, before back up at the man in the mirror. His eyes are focused on her hair, pulling stray strands into place.

 

“Kefka…” she mumbles, the faint memory of the man forming in her mind. She knows him, she knows him so well that she feels intrinsically connected to him. The exact nature of their relationship is fuzzy, she cannot recall specific situations. Only that she has been called here for a purpose, and he is here with her. She can feel magic radiating off of him, he is so close. His fingers brush against the back of her neck as he adjusts the fastening of her cape.

 

“Marvelous, my dear,” he says, leaning down to croon in her ear. His eyes are locked on hers in the mirror. His eyes are so sharp, outlined by perfectly traced red lines. His lips break into a smile as he looks at her, and his hands settle on her shoulders. He is so...familiar. She has been here, in this exact situation before, with him idly caressing her hair. Adjusting the bow at the top of her head.

 

She doesn’t break eye contact with him as she reaches up to touch his fingertips with her own.

 

If she is here, then surely this is where she is meant to be?

 

\---

 

From her place on the vanity stool, she looks around, her eyes drifting to the door. She wondered if she had quarters of her own.

 

“Do I...do I stay here?”

 

He hums amusedly into her shoulder, catching her eyes in the mirror.

 

“With all of those other chaotic warriors about?” He put a hand to his forehead dramatically. “Pfft...I’m not letting you out of my sight, my dear.”

 

“Oh...so, where do I sleep?”

 

He crooks an eyebrow, smirking at her. Her eyes widen in response as she realizes what he’s implying.

 

“Chaos is a fussy deity...not to mention _cheap_ ,” He rolls his eyes as he gestures around the room. “I mean, have you seen this decor? He only created a mirror image of one room from our home world...wanna wager a guess as to who’s room it is?”

 

He lets out a snort, and Terra has to stifle a giggle. She turns around on the stool to look around the room. The stone walls look almost castle-like, adorned with tapestries. There is a plush, exotic rug underneath their feet. Across the room is a lavish featherbed with a canopy of red and gold. There are so many pillows on the bed she briefly wonders if this was supposed to be her room, or his.

 

“What a mimicry of my good taste!” He says, feigning a pout. She can’t resist a giggle this time, and he looks down at her with amusement in his eyes.

 

“So here we are, my darling...two bees in one bonnet, as the saying goes.”

 

\---

 

Later that afternoon, after being awoken to serve, Kefka directs her about how to harness the fire radiating from her fingertips. He tells her she is special, that she has a divine power within her. This is why she has been called here, to this fortress of Chaos, surrounded by her fellow warriors.

 

In a moment of teaching, he places his hands on her own, fingers firmly clasped around her wrist. He traces her hand in the air, demonstrating the correct movement to properly cast a fire spell.

 

His chest is so close, firmly pressed up against her back. She can feel the magic radiating from him, so similar to the buzz of the magic within her.

 

“Good girl,” he whispers beside her. She wonders if she was meant to hear that.

 

While he’s not entirely comforting, he is at the very least _familiar_. She feels like she has known him for so long. He reminds her of her home world, the way the magic sparks from his fingertips so similarly to her own.

 

“If you’d just let your power take over,” he mumbles in her ear, “We could destroy everything together.”

 

“Everything…?” she asks, hesitantly, turning her head to try to look at him. He towers above her more than usual because his feet are not touching the ground.

 

He grips the back of her hand tighter, and she can see half of his face break into a smile.

 

“Oh yessss, my dear.”

 

She feels his warmth buzzing at her back. He is so close to her now.

 

“Now, again, again,” He looks down at her. He has still not let go of her hand. “Let’s _play_ more.”

 

\---

 

The first night of her new ‘life’, she watches from an armchair in the corner as he fusses with his head dress in the mirror. She wonders if he will remove his makeup. He seems so otherworldly, it’s almost amusing to think of him as a man beneath his vivid colors. Yet, here he stands, grumbling irritably as he pulls at the feathers tied in his blond hair.

 

He had removed the sashes around his waist, and his cape and mantle earlier. He remained in his red tunic, breeches, and tights. His mismatched boots were setting by the door. Without the flowy sashes tied to him, there was nothing to float. He had both of his feet resting upon the floor, instead of hovering above. Unfettered by his chaotic dress, you could almost see the shape of a man hidden beneath.

 

He curses as he struggles with his feathered headdress, rolling his eyes.

 

“Let me help you,” she says, sounding like a mouse that had been hiding in the shadows of the room. His head jerked sharply in her direction. She was so quiet, he had almost forgotten that she was there.

 

She reached up to untie the pins that held his headgear in place, and she was amazed at how short he was when he wasn’t floating. Without his feathers and his hovering, he no longer towered over her.

 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he mumbles, distractedly looking at himself in the mirror.

 

Taken aback at his thanks, she looks at his reflection in the mirror as he drags a rag down the side of his face. The humanity of this movement is so surprising, it’s almost hard to believe that he has human skin beneath the paint. He pauses, his eyes darting to catch her gaze. It is almost amusing to see him with red streaks under only one eye.

 

“Yesssss~?” He is not distracted now, his eyes focused on her entirely. She notices his eyes flicker down her body, before snapping back to her face.

 

Suddenly self conscious, she breaks the stare, shifting awkwardly. She had changed into a nightgown that she found in one of the vanity drawers earlier, and she was all too suddenly aware of how thin the fabric was.

 

“Your...face paint.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her toes aware of the cold stone beneath the thin rug. “I had..forgotten what you looked like without it.”

 

“Ahh...to tell the truth, sometimes I forget too!” His reflection grins at her. “But look, there remains a man beneath!” He laughs a little too long, his voice lilting.

 

“Get some sleep, little one,” he says, turning around to look at her instead of her reflection. “My face will, unfortunately, remain here.”

 

She regards him for a moment, before nodding and turning to walk to the bed. One bed. If she didn’t feel such a familiarity with him, surely she would have refused to share a bed with him. But then again, it was just sharing a sleeping space. Nothing more.

 

\---

 

She wakes suddenly in the middle of the night, forgetting who or where she is. The moonlight streams in through the window, revealing that she is laying in a large bed underneath a dark canopy. The memory of the evening comes back to her. She is a warrior of Chaos. She is here to serve his purpose.

 

She grabs ahold of the large blanket, pulling it up over her shoulders and turning on her side. She realizes all too suddenly that she is not alone in this bed.

 

She doesn’t immediately recognize him, not without his usual makeup. She remembers her curiosity from that evening, her desire to see him without the facepaint. He is sleeping across from her, his sharp features softened by the glow of the moon.

 

Her eyes scan over his face and chest, taking it in. He looks so...ordinary? Like a man. Just a man. Laying there with her, beneath the blankets of a soft bed. He’s not wearing a shirt, and she blushes at this realization.

 

They are here because of their powers, their ability to help Chaos. They are _together_ because of their connection.

 

She has never felt such an intense connection to someone before, and _surely_ that must be a good thing. It has to be. Intense, intimate connections like this were reserved for people like family, or _lovers_. She wouldn’t feel this way towards him if he was anything less, right?

 

Realizing just how cold the fortress room was, she moves closer to him underneath the covers. He radiates a warm, sparking feeling that mirrors her own.

 

Hesitantly, she reaches out to touch his cheek.

 

Real. Just a man.

 

Keeping an inch of distance between them, she turns over to fall back asleep.

 

\---

 

She dreams of hands on her, hands and sparks, ghosts of touches long since past. She feels lips on her, arms pulling her closer, words whispered in her ear. She arches into them, into the familiarity of them. Comfort is all she wants to feel.

 

In the morning, he is gone, and she briefly wonders if seeing him sleeping last night was real. When she finds him in the fortress courtyard, his facepaint is once again applied, as perfect as it had been the day before. Perhaps she had never actually seen his real face, afterall.

 

\---

 

“Kefka?”

 

“Yes, dear?” He glances at her reflection in the mirror, once again fumbling with his head dress. It is night again, time to return to bed and rest. It would be time to face the warriors of Cosmos soon, and they needed all of their strengths for such battles.

 

“I...I was wondering about...our connection,” she says, wringing her hands behind him. He pauses with his fumblings to turn around to face her.

 

“Our connection?” He raises an eyebrow at her.

 

“Yes...how we knew each other before...before we were called here.” She had been wondering since she woke up in this world. While she had no memory of their previous homeworld, perhaps he did?

 

“Ah, yes...that.” He looks down at the floor, regarding this query for a moment. “It’s simple, my dear. You are mine.”

 

He smiles up at her, as if this answer was obvious.

 

“Yours’?” She says, not quite the answer she was expecting.

 

“Yes, yes, quite,” He stands, and grasps her hands in his own. “You are here with me, because you are _meant_ to be here with me. I mean, the details are a bit fuzzy, but _here we are_!”

 

He turns back around to return to his place at the vanity, and resumes fiddling with his hair. Terra remains standing behind him, still wringing her hands nervously. She has been working up the courage to ask him since she came into this existence.

 

“But...did I love you?”

 

He stops what he is doing immediately, and turns around again to regard her. He raises his eyebrows, looking her up and down. She is once again suddenly self-conscious, but she had to ask him. The enigma of their familiarity was killing her. She didn’t even know if she was capable of loving another person. Her thoughts were so scattered, her memories nothing but dull voids.

 

He suddenly stood to come forward, and gather her in his arms, much to her surprise. Her body goes tense.

 

“My darling Terra!” He croons, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “Out of every being in this universe, all of them! And Chaos called us here _together_ ,” He squeezed her, a little too tightly. “Now, doesn’t that sound like an epic love story to you?”

 

She lets her body relax in his arms. His embrace feels familiar, like she has been here before. Perhaps she had been right?

 

She jolts in surprise when he buries his face in her neck, smearing his facepaint on her.

 

“K-Kefka…?” She stutters, her hand immediately going to his shoulders. She is going to push him away, but something in her pauses.

 

“Hush, my dear,” he murmurs into her skin, before he pulls back and looks at her. Their faces are so close, their noses are almost touching.

 

His makeup is smeared again. She can see his skin beneath, and she remembers seeing him last night, free of it all. He is always so composed around their teammates, to see him sans his sashes and his makeup flawed is almost thrilling. Almost like this version of Kefka is her secret, something that only she can see.

 

Surely, he must be right. They must _mean_ something to each other.

 

With a quickness surprising herself, she pushes her lips against his. He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, like he is just as shocked as well.

 

This is familiar, too. This feeling of kissing him, feeling his facepaint smear against the corners of her mouth. She has been here before, here is his arms, within a kiss that is deepening.

 

She kisses him, almost desperately. She is chasing something, an idea that is always just out of her reach. The idea of home, of belonging, of being where she is meant to be.

 

She feels herself being lifted, being carried to the bed, being pushed down against the softness. Yes, this is how it’s supposed to feel, she’s sure of it.

 

“I will show you how strong of a _love_ this is,” he murmurs against her collarbone, before biting down.

 

She ignores the hint of mockery in his tone, too focused on how his hands feel upon her, too desperate to believe in this feeling.

 

“Kk...Kefka,” she whimpers, throwing her head back against the pillows.

 

“My, how pretty my name sounds in your mouth,” he says, his voice lilting with amusement.

 

She grabs at his shoulders, pulling him closer to her, _needing_ to reassure herself that this was real and not just a shrouded memory.

 

She pulls herself upwards, rolling them over so that she is on top of him. She hesitates for a moment, before she reaches for the hem of her nightgown, and pulls it up and over her shoulders. She is naked before him, with the exception of her smallclothes. The cool breeze that blows in through the window makes her shiver just as much as her current situation.

 

“My, my, my...feeling bold this time around, are we?”

 

He watches as she straddles him, amused. His carefully applied facepaint has been smeared by their kissing, and he looks more like an ordinary man, stretched out on the bed below her. Knowing that the makeup isn't permanent is like a comfort for her.

 

Beneath his carefully orchestrated exterior, beneath the spark of his magic, he was still a person that she could _touch_.

 

“I feel like I have been here before…” she murmurs, reaching down to grab his hand, and pressing the back of his hand to her cheek. “I feel...a connection to you.”

 

“Oh, but we are connected, my dear.” He runs his hand down her cheek, and she can feel the blotches of facepaint on her own face, streaks that his kisses had left behind.

 

He moves his fingers from her cheek to idly stroke at the strands of hair that had fallen free of her hairband. He brushes these behind her ear, and then sits up. He wraps his arms around her, his hands running along the line of her spine.

 

She shivers, she can feel the tingle of sparks beneath his fingertips. There is a similar burning at the edges of her own hands, and she wonders if he can feel the heat radiating from where her fingers press against his shoulders.

 

“You’re warm, my darling,” The look in his eyes is mischievous, the corner of his mouth upturned in a sly smile. “Could it be...I draw _something_ out in you?”

 

“Fire…” she mumbles, concentrating on the feel of cold heat in her fingers.

 

“I will help you control it,” he whispers directly into her ear, before biting softly on her earlobe. She gasps and unconsciously bucks her hips down. He hums with satisfaction at her movement, and she can feel something stir down between her legs.

 

Had they been lovers in the past, before they were brought here? This situation, too, feels familiar, with her straddled on top of him. She imagines feeling the ghosts of a hundred hands on her, all belonging to previous incarnations of themselves. Touching her, teaching her, pleasing her in all manner of ways. She knows that this is where she must be meant to be.

 

The only memory she can recall sharply is looking into his eyes as they stare intensely back at her. She can see the icey blue, the red streaks at the corners. She knows that somewhere, in some other world, she has looked into these intense eyes before.

 

As his hand plays across her back and stomach, she thinks that it must have been in a time like this.

 

She looks down at him, down into those same eyes, and smiles demurely. She is meant to be here. She would not have been summoned if it were not so.

 

His hands wander up her stomach to touch her breasts. His attention is rapt, his eyes focused as he brushes his fingertips across her nipples, and she bites her lip to stifle a moan.

 

“Let me hear you, dear,” he croons sweetly, punctuated by another pinch at her nipples.

 

She grinds her hips down on him, and she feels a heat burning far from her fingertips. She can feel him too, hard beneath her.

 

She may be on top of him, but he was in control here.

 

She grabs his hands to still their teasing, and drags them down her sides. Her breasts are so sensitive, she can’t bare more than a little torture there. Truthfully, her entire body was so sensitive. Even if in another lifetime, he had touched her...in this one it was as if he was touching for the first time.

 

In a fluid motion, he grabs ahold of her and flips them over so that she was now pressed into the plush of the bed.

 

The look in his eyes is mischievous as he looks her up and down, his eyes now free to look wherever he wanted. He ran his hands down her soft, light skin. Her breath catches in her throat as his hands pass over her smallclothes.

 

“What a beautiful work of art,” he muses, running his hands along the tops of her thighs.

 

She shudders, arching into his touch. Surely, he would not be so kind, so praising, if he did not mean it.

 

She sits herself up, so she can reach for his tunic. Grabbing the hem of his collar, she pulls him closer to her, into a kiss. She idly reaches up to undo the pins in his head dress, letting the feathers fall to the floor.

 

She likes it when he looks like this, so far from the eyes of the warring world.

 

With the feathers no longer in the way, she grabs the edge of his tunic and pulls it up and off of him. She regards him for a moment, hands tracing along his collarbone. He applies his white makeup all the way down his neck and onto the top of his chest. He looks almost comical now that she can see the stark peach color of his chest compared to the white of his face.

 

The corner of his mouth upturns in a crooked smile, and his hands stray to her smallclothes again. She helps him take them off of her.

 

When he touches her, it’s as if she has felt this before. Another time, another place. She muses on the extent of their relationship in their previous world, but knows that not even he knows. All he feels is an innate desire to possess her, keep her, claim her.

 

“You make such a lovely toy,” he murmurs into her ear, as his hand teases her. This tone of voice is reserved for rarer moments for him. Deeper, almost a growl.

 

His laugh splits the air like lightning, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

 

“We must never be apart, my dear,” He takes a piece of her hair in his other hand, idly rubbing it between his fingers.

 

She rubs her thighs together, her desire growing. His light touches have been torture.

 

“Tell me what you want,” he says, his sharp eyes looking down directly into her’s. He is so close to her now, his breeches and tights long discarded off the side of the bed. The only thing left between them is the facepaint, the only thing preventing her from reaching the rest of his skin.

 

“You,” she whispers, reaching for him, “To feel.”

 

He sighs a “Hmm.” into the crook of her neck as he pushes into her. She feels sparks behind her eyes, feels the fire within herself ripple throughout her body. She arches her back up into him.

 

This feeling is smothering, hypnotizing. Almost like some star-crossed love.

 

She wraps her legs around him, so she can take him in deeper. So they can meld together.

 

He seems surprised at her movement, her eagerness.

 

“Patience, my sweet,” he says into her ear, pressing a kiss to the side of her face, letting his tongue loll against her earlobe.

 

She lets out a moan at the contact, bucking her hips upwards. He hasn’t moved within her yet, and it was slowly driving her _mad_.

 

“Ah-ah-ah,” he trills. “Wouldn’t want to let you come so soon, would we?”

 

She lets out a strangled whine. He was toying with her. His breath next to her ear was beginning to hitch.

 

When he finally pulled out of her and pushed back inside, she let out a long wail. He chuckles in amusement at her desperation.

 

“P-please…” she moans, bucking her hips upwards. He remains still in her, kissing down the side of her face, smearing more of his facepaint against her.

 

“Well, since you asked so sweetly…” He trails off, before he suddenly pulls out of her and slams back in. He was giving her what she wanted now, that sweet friction.

 

This is what lovers do. He felt so _good_ inside of her, that this is what they were meant to do, she was sure of it.

 

“I am all that you have,” he murmurs as he bites into her shoulder, causing her to cry out.

 

“K-kefka...you f-feel so...” she moans, her words trembling. She is struggling to grab ahold of anything nearby, the sheets, the pillows. She digs her fingertips deeper into his back, afraid that if she were to let go, she would be transported to another world, and she would lose this feeling.

 

He presses his face against hers as he pounds into her faster, reaching a deeper spot within her. She digs her heels into his back, urging him to keep going.

 

His pace was as chaotic as he was. One minute, he would fuck into her like a madman, the next he would move agonizingly slow.

 

“Please…” she manages to choke out, so overwhelmed with the pleasure of feeling him inside of her. The holy space inside of her. She could feel a peak building within her, but everytime she would get close, the flame would be diminished by his erratic pace.

 

“My, how I love the way you beg,” he says, trailing a line of kisses up her jawline, ending with a bite on her lower lip.

 

“If you were always this good, I wouldn’t have to keep your strings so tight.”

 

The meaning of his whisper is lost on her, her thoughts clouded with intense pleasure. He was working himself in and out of her, just the way she wanted. His hand slipped between them to rub at her most sensitive spot, and this made her let out an embarrassing loud moan.

 

He tsked at her, unrelenting in his pace. “Be careful now, wouldn’t want to wake the others, would we?”

 

“K-kefka, I’m going to-” Terra’s eyes rolled back as stars exploded across her vision, the heat inside of her reaching its peak.

 

“Yes _ss_ , my darling, come for me _ee_ ,” he lilts in her ear, kissing her to subdue her moan with his mouth.  

 

He thrusts into her a few more times, before she feels him shudder against her. Her legs remain firmly hooked around him, not wanting to lose hold of this feeling, this moment where everything felt _okay_.

 

Spent, he collapses next to her. He takes a moment to catch his breath, before he gathers her in his arms and pulls her close to him.

 

“In a thousand lifetimes, a thousand cycles, you will always end up here with me,” he says, tracing his hand in the air above them. “Because...you are meant to. I am all that you have.”

 

As she lays her head on his chest, she is blissfully oblivious to the memories of past cycles. Of the terror he has caused her, the atrocities he has forced her to commit. In this moment, as most of their cycles in this world begin, she clings to the feeling of home.

 

\---

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Darkmary/Maryxula from Tumblr, for all of her awesome inspiration while I was writing this piece. <3


End file.
